


Arvas (The A Horseman By Any Other Name Remix)

by ishafel



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishafel/pseuds/ishafel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the first moment we had never a thought<br/>That they were creatures to be owned and used.<br/>Among them were some half a dozen colts<br/>Dropped in some wilderness of the broken world,<br/>Yet new as if they had come from their own Eden.<br/>Since then they have pulled our plows and borne our loads<br/>But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.<br/>Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.<br/>--Edwin Muir</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arvas (The A Horseman By Any Other Name Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lferion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Arvas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/418772) by [lferion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion). 
  * In response to a prompt by [lferion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion) in the [remixmadness2014](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2014) collection. 



When he tells the story afterward-- and he tells the story hundreds of times, over thousands of years, around campfires and at universities and seated at smoky bars-- Methos talks about the way it changes the world. It makes possible fields of wheat that stretch as far as the eye can see. Roads are built because of it, and nations conquered. 

The one thing Methos never says when he talks about it is that they did not know then what it was that this would mean, and that he, at least, would not have cared. He has been a king in time of famine, the greatest tactician in an age of soldiers; he has built roads and walked them.

None of it means anything, even now. No power, no strength, no speed-- no necessity so great as the thing Methos feels the first time he holds his hand out flat and the horse lowers its head and snorts softly against Methos's palm. The one word Methos never uses when he tells the story of the horses, of that first time at the crossroads, is _love_.


End file.
